Do You Feel Me
by hellohades
Summary: Because this was the day Thor would leave for war. Lives would be lost; and fathers, brothers, cousins, and husbands would travel to Valhalla faithfully during this time. The Valkyrie would be quite busy, ferrying all those victorious souls to the gates. No one would notice Loki slipping away, too. Title by: Anthony Hamilton's song: Do You Feel Me
1. Escaping the Nightmares

_Because this was the day Thor would leave for war. Lives would be lost; and fathers, brothers, cousins, and husbands would travel to Valhalla faithfully during this time. The Valkyrie would be quite busy, ferrying all those victorious souls to the gates._

_No one would notice Loki slipping away, too._

Title by: Anthony Hamilton's song _Do You Feel Me_

* * *

**Do You Feel Me**

* * *

_The world is on fire._

_The Golden City is wrought in rumble and ash. Loki gasps, his eyes adjusting to the wreckage he has brought upon them—and he knows _he's_ the one that has done this. He's the one that brought the war here; he's the one that brought the city to its knees._

_A God's blood is spilt at his feet, splashed across the pavement, discarded and ignored like a petty peasant. Loki knows whose blood is before him. _

_Odin's smashed helmet glistens in the flames of his fallen Kingdom, but Odin's body in nowhere to be found. Frigga lay beyond that, turned on her side—blood pooling beneath her, staining her armor a rustic color. Her chest isn't moving anymore, and she's gone pale—paler than Loki likes. Loki has to look away as he begins to choke on his sobs._

_Fenrir howls off in the distance, broken and pained. He limps towards Loki once he sees him, but his eyes are dull, and spears and swords sticking out of his fur at every which angle. The fire casts weary shadows around him, darkening the sky with smoke._

_Blood is dripping from Fenrir' teeth, coating and clotting around his muzzle. He claws his way towards Loki, but his body falls to the ground with a tired huff and the wind carries his ashes off. It leaves nothing but bones and teeth._

_Loki moves, trying to reach Fenrir, but his feet feel heavy, as if he's running in quick sand. He's not moving fast enough, and he's gasping for air, screaming for Fenrir to get up, to get out of the way of the fire, to please, God, Fenrir, _move._  
_

_The fire moves over his son's carcass, consuming his bones and the rest of the city. A man laughs off to the side, deep and cruel, but Loki can't turn around to see him._

_A pained groan reaches his ears. Loki looks at his hands, and they're blue—_Frost Giant blue_—before he realizes he's crying so hard he can't even hear himself hyperventilating over the sounds of the flames roaring so near him. There is a red cape, torn and tattered in the grasp of his left hand, a hammer in his right, and in a blink of his eyes, Thor is kneeling before him. His once bright, blue eyes are glossed over and cloudy—as if he were already dead._

"_Why, Loki?" The blonde God whispers, his voice hoarse and broken, but then he falls too, just as Fenrir had, and blood spills from his parted lips and doesn't stop till Loki is standing in nothing but a river of Thor's blood, and Loki screams, kneeling beside Thor and cradling him so close Loki can feel his ribs shattering within his breast, and then his world goes dark again._

* * *

Loki wakes, gasping for air as he bolts upright. He's alone in his room, his husband having already left for the evening's celebrations. Loki had only come into their chambers to catch a short nap before the feast, but it seems he's nearly slept the whole night away.

Loki raises slowly, his knees weak and feeble after his nightmare. The dark, cool night feels blissful on Loki's warm, sweaty skin, and Loki is able to breathe freely, but his mouth still tastes like smoke and ash, just as it had the night before, and the night before that. He closes his eyes, breathes deeply, and wipes a hand over his face.

This is the final straw.

* * *

The night before the war, Loki sits beside his husband as his love and support. Thor clutches Loki's hand beneath the dinning table, and his palms are sweating and warm, so Loki knows he's nervous or anxious. Their knees keep bumping because Thor hasn't stopped bouncing his legs under the table since they sat down.

Thor turns towards Loki and places a slow kiss at his exposed neck, nuzzling behind his ear. "I love you," he whispers, and Loki smiles faintly, bating him away softly. "You ought pay attention, husband." Loki teases, dark eyes turned towards Thor.

Thor grins, chuckling under his breath, but he turns back towards the celebration.

Loki is nervous too, and so very tired. His dreams are getting worse, and today had been the breaking point. The visions were getting more vivid, as if Loki was the one who was actually causing the destruction to the realms surrounding Asgard—to Asgard _itself._

It was awful, and though Loki is the God of Mischief, he would never bring war to his home, to Thor's home; to i_their/_i home. What an absurd thought.

… But there's still that little voice, eating away at him mind. _You could do it_ it seethes venomously, _You could bring them to their knees, make them kneel before you._ Loki shakes his head and glances side-long at Odin as he enters the hall, followed closely by his armored wife and her guards.

The crowd hoots and hollers as Odin beings to speak about the coming morning. "Tomorrow, when the sun rises, we Asgardians will set off to conquer Muspelheim," someone shouts encouragements, and Odin's lips turn up into a grin, but he continues; "there, we will free the people Surtur has enslaved and take his throne for our own!" The warriors in the hall hoot the loudest, singing songs in an Asgardian language that Loki had long since learned.

Odin hobbles over to the head of the table, sits in his seat with Frigga to his side. She cups his hand in hers, smiles warmly and he grins back at her.

The celebration carries on. The food is served, piled high atop the large tables, and the warriors eat and drink ferociously. They consume nearly everything and perhaps all but drink the Palace dry. Thor grins beside Loki, drunk and warm. Loki doesn't much mind—it's the Asgardian way. Drink and be merry.

Loki picks at his food before him, feels an emptiness deep within his stomach. It feeds on the nothingness within him, claws its way up his throat and catches his tongue between his teeth.

Odin turns his attention towards Loki and gave him a curious, knowing look, his seeing eye clear and accusing, and for that reason and that reason alone, Loki can't bring himself to muster up the courage to fake a smile and pretend like he didn't notice Odin staring at him throughout the evening.

"I have to leave," Loki mutters to Thor a moment later, who has already downed four goblets of ale and nearly the same amount in mead.

Thor turns to Loki and frowns, "no," he says, gripping Loki's arm. He pulls his husband closer, "please don't go." He begs, and Loki sighs.

"Thor please, I didn't sleep well the past few night, I'm tired, dear." He strokes a hand down Thor's face softly, and the man leans his face into the cradle of Loki's palm and closes his eyes for a minute. He leans his mouth into Loki's palm and kisses his hand, and Loki feels the emptiness disperse, if only for a moment, as Thor's eyes open up to him and he smiles.

Thor nods slowly, places a kiss to Loki's lips and licks into his mouth feverishly. Loki tries to pull away, but Thor holds him there, pulling his body flush against the Thunderer's. "Thor," Loki warns against his husband's lips, pushing the bigger man away.

Thor sighs longingly. "Would you have me come with you?" He asks, and Loki shakes his head.

"Stay, enjoy your celebration, love. I will be in our bed when you decide to follow." He smirks, and Thor grins coyly.

He stands, bows his head towards Thor's mother, his mentor for years, and Thor's father. Odin waves him away, staring after Loki forlornly. With his fists clenched at his sides, he turns to leave the dinning hall.

He pauses just outside the hall, just for a moment. His feet feel as if their sinking in quick sand and his guilty stomach stutters as he pushes on, walking towards his and Thor's room, and he feels like heaving into the closest thing he can.

* * *

He awakens that faithful morning beside Thor, who slept ever soundly once more. The brute had stumbled in at the first light of dawn and had slept beside Loki in nothing but bare skin.

Loki smiles fondly at his husband. Had things been different, he would have loved to stay here, with Thor, forever. But the dreams were ever the same, and it always made Loki want to vomit vehemently all over the cold, cobbled floor.

Loki stretches his weary, tired muscles until he can feel the blood circulating in his fingers again. His tired, cold bones suddenly make him feel so empty, void of energy, and so very, very heavy at the same time.

Yet it is beautiful out once Loki blinked away the sleep, as Asgard always is, and Loki can remember it perfectly if he thinks hard enough and closes his eyes at just the right time of morning.

He can remembers the way the sunlight would leak in through the window in their chambers, only disturbed by the small particles floating freely in the air. He remembers watching Thor's chest rise and fall in his sleep, and the way his lips remained ajar due to a terrible snoring problem the brute had. He remembers the way Thor's hair was tasseled every which way but neat, and the feel of Thor's taunt skin pulled over too much muscle and how warm the man always was beside him.

Oh yes, Loki remembers everything.

Because this was the day Thor would leave for war. Lives would be lost; and fathers, brothers, cousins, and husbands would faithfully travel to Valhalla during this time. The Valkyrie would be quite busy, ferrying all those victorious souls to the gates.

No one would notice Loki slipping away, too.

* * *

It was midmorning, and Thor was already straddling his horse with Odin beside him. They asked Loki to stay behind and be their confidant back home, just in case things escalated and the war lasted longer than they planned—not long, in Thor's eyes, he'd whispered into Loki's neck—in fact, he should be home by the end of the Winter Solstice—but Thor was always over confident, and Loki remembers that, too.

Thor took Loki's face in his hands, kissed him once, lovingly, then off he went down the Rainbow Bridge, followed by his father's glistening army. Oh yes, Loki remembers the way the golden armor of soldiers shined in the sunlight, blinding all who looked upon them.

Slowly, Loki retreated into the crowd, disappearing with the blink of an eye.

* * *

It's dark before Loki finds what he's looking for, deep in the forests surrounding the Kingdom. The form of the giant wolf, huddled between the trees, isn't a hard one to find—but finding the path that leads to him in a forest of many paths is the most difficult part.

Loki walks over to the beast quietly, tip toeing as to not wake the child. He thinks about what he's going to say to him, but eventually, after some thought, all words fall short when you're abandoning your troubled child to the fate of the Asgardian Kingdom.

Tyr had already lost his hand to Loki's son, but what would happen to the boy once Loki was no longer present in Asgard? What would the Aesir do to his son then…?

Loki sighs softly, reaches a hand out and pets the giant creatures fur lovingly. The creature stirs, his massive eyes opening slowly, his vision blurry. He blinks, growling in warning, and Loki removes his hand, showing both hands in surrender, "hush, child." Loki smiles sadly, and the creature rises to a sitting position.

The chains that bind him to the ground pull gently at his neck, holding him fast when he makes a move to scoop closer to his father. Unshed tears burn at the corner of Loki's eyes at his son's actions, and when the boy starts to whine Loki draws closer, tugging his son down to the ground gently.

"You are beautiful, my child." Loki whispers, and the wolf, Fenrir, preens. "But I have bad news."

The wolf waits patently for his father to speak again, but Loki takes his time. He brushes his fingers through the wolfs' fur, feels his soft undercoat and coarse overcoat. He admires the strong jaw and pointed, ivory teeth that hide behind pale grey lips. Loki runs his hand over the black, cold, wet nose of the boy. His stares fondly into the beasts yellow eyes and smiles sadly.

"I have to go, my love." He whispers softly, but he knows the wolf can hear him. The yellow eyes of the massive beast follow Loki as he steps closer to his chest wearily. The green-eyed man pushes away the feeling of the pressure building behind his eyes. This is his child, his _baby_, and even if it's not Thor's child, it's still Loki's _son._

"It's not safe for me here anymore." Loki places a hand over the massive beasts heart, and the creature stiffens slightly. "I wish I could take you with me, child."

The wolf whines lowly, his paw curling around Loki's tiny form. He brings Loki into his chest, wishing he could absorb his father. "I know," Loki coos, when he feels the wolf start to huff in quick, stuttering breaths. "Fenrir, please, don't cry." Loki begs, placing a hand on either side of the child's face, but the wolf howls, long and mournfully. His eyes shine in the darkness, regretful and hurt.

Loki pets his son's giant head till the boy falls into a lull several hours later, his head heavy on Loki's lap. He slides out from underneath the massive wolf's body and pets him softly once more. "I love you," he whispers into the wolfs' ear. It twitches slightly, but Fenrir doesn't stir.

Loki doesn't know if he's grateful for that or not.

* * *

Himedall's eyes shift knowingly to Loki, the hooded crowned Prince standing proudly before him.

Loki stares up at him defiantly from beneath his cloak, and Himedall cracks a soft smile. "Why, Prince Loki, you look no more than a beggar." He jests.

The pale skinned man tries not to smile as the back of his eyes burn unpleasantly, "yes, well, I had to leave the Palace somehow."

Himedall places a firm hand on the other man's shoulder and gives an understanding nod of his head. His golden eyes burn into Loki's hooded face, and the pale man tries to push past the Gatekeeper, but Himedall holds him steady.

"I know why you're leave, Loki, son of Laufey." Himedall's deep voice feels like repeated shockwaves to Loki's very skin, and it pains him to hear Himedall say his real name. "You found out your origins then, did you not?"

Loki doesn't say anything, simply glances down at his feet shamefully.

"Ahh. I see. You have not asked Odin why he brought you here, have you?"

Again, Loki is silent, and Himedall closes his eyes. "You feel unworthy of your House, and therefore unworthy of your mate." Himedall's never moving eyes glance at the ebony haired man, and he sees more hidden secrets within Loki's taunt lips and glistening emerald eyes. "You fear that if you stay, you will do unthinkable things to Asgard and the Aesir," he glances out at the stars, then back at Loki, "you fear you will be their undoing."

Loki slowly backs away from the Gatekeeper. He stares down at Himedall and his eyes burn and tingle at the edges, because at least someone finally knows his pain now. This is no longer his burden to carry by himself. Himedall knows, has known since the beginning, and now, Loki can leave in peace.

"Tell no one where I've gone, Gatekeeper." He orders softly, his voice cracking, and no one would dare defy Thor's mate's orders.

"Of course, your Highness. Good luck." Himedall opens the Bifrost, and Loki is gone, but not before he hears one last, long, mournful howl from Fenrir, deep within the forest.

* * *

It is Baldr whom finds him first.

Though Baldr should be off at war, when word reaches him of Loki's sudden disappearance from one of his mother's guards who carries the message, Baldr is beside himself. He tells the messenger to leave Thor out of it and he will find the Heir's mate himself.

The messenger is skittish around the gentle General, and nods hurriedly before returning to the Palace.

Though, Loki is not surprised when Baldr knocks on his door ever so gently, with an even gentler smile on his face.

Loki chuckles and waves the man in, offering a chair and a cup of tea.

Baldr sits quietly for a while, simply enjoying Loki's company.

"Come now, Loki. Come home." He tries to persuade Loki to go back, but Asgard is not Loki's home anymore, and Loki shakes his head sorrowfully.

"I cannot return to Asgard now, my brother." He says, and Baldr gathers Loki in his arms and holds him tight.

"Tell me." Baldr beckons, and Loki does. He tells Baldr of his visions, he tells him of Thor's death, of the fire that consumes all and the ashy taste in his mouth every morning. He tells Baldr about Frigga, how her death went unnoticed until she was bled dry and her magic stolen.

Baldr holds him close, shushes him when Loki begins to cry. His nightmares never change, and they're always there, behind his eyes every time he blinks. He can't take it anymore, and he fears they'll come true if he'd stayed on Asgard, where it was all very possible.

"If you had never had those visions, you would have never run from our home, would you have?" Baldr coos softly, and Loki pushes him away firmly. He never would have left Thor's side if he'd never had these visions.

"It's time you leave, Baldr." Loki whispers, turning his back to the gentle man. He gathers up their dishes and walks them to the sink, where he deposits them softly.

"Your son," Baldr says, cautiously, slowly, and Loki freezes at the mention of Fenrir. Baldr carries on; "he misses you, dear Loki. He howls every night, waiting for your return."

Loki sobs openly at that, holds his chest as it begins to tear itself apart from within him. Fenrir, his son, is suffering. And Thor, oh Gods, Thor doesn't know that Loki is even gone, does he? Loki shakes his head. He denies his brother-in-laws, denies him home, denies his mate, and sends Baldr off with a little trinkets of Midgard—a necklace, purple in nature, but so lovely—and Baldr wears it proudly home.

A messenger comes some time later, offering up a green lace necklace. Baldr's scent is wrapped up in the parchment the necklace is carried in, and Loki smiles softly at the messenger. "Off with you." He orders, and the massager leaves.


	2. A Plague, Born of Your Love

**Do You Feel Me [2]**

* * *

_The world is broken beyond what Loki can see._

_Jotunheim is crippled, somewhere beyond his sight. The realm is hanging on by just a string, and its people are broken and weary. They want revenge, but on whom?_

"_Laufey is dead," Loki hears someone whisper, "you killed him," the voice accuses, and then there is a man, laughing cruelly off to the side, echoing within the cave. His skin is red and his back is turned to Loki._

_The Bifrost is torn, broken into so many pieces that even Odin can't even fix it—not with all the magic he has left._

_Loki knows what's coming next, but at the same time, he doesn't—he can't remember correctly. He opens his eyes for a split second, but something wet drips into them, spilling from above, and it burns so badly he screams and screams till his throat is raw. His eyes dissolve into the back of his skull, leaking from the corner of his eyelids and slipping down his cheeks in red, mucus-like torrents. _

_A hiss reaches his ears, soft and subtle, but it's there, on the branches just above his head. Loki can't make out the creature just yet, but Gods eyes heal fast enough. He blinks a few times, tries to clear his newly healed eyes and he gasps. It's a serpent's form, curled and coiled atop the World Tree. _

"_No!" He shouts, but the serpent drops more venom into his eyes, and Loki seizes against his restraints. He tries blinking away the pain, but then another drop comes, and his eyes dissolve rapidly once more. The snake hisses, and it sounds like he's laughing at Loki's expense. _

_Loki struggles against the restraints, but an iron device holds his head and hands to a giant rock beneath him. He can lift his head just enough to see the rest of his body. He gasps, chokes on a sob and squeezes his eyes shut. His stomach hangs out of a wound in his belly, his intestines tying his entire body to the ground, oozing and leaking across his skin. Flies buzz around his wound, and the gash is festering. The smell is sickening._

"_Thor did this to you," the man's voice says, maliciously, and he laughs as Loki cries._

_The venom continues to drips onto him slowly. He screams and pants against the pain, but a woman, cloaked in shadow, comes to Loki's aide and shielding him from the snakes' poisonous venom. "Hush, love, I'm here." She whispers, caresses his face. _

_Loki struggles for a brief time. The bowl is small; it can't hold the venom away for long. He can feel his heart pounding within his ribcage, fast and hard. He struggles, and the metal bites at his wrists, tearing the skin and breaking the blood vessels beneath. _

"_Be still," another man's voice booms at the entrance of the cave, and the woman beside him shrinks away, pouring the bowl of venom off to the side. The snake grins above Loki, dripping his venom slowly, watching as it dissolves the flesh around Loki's perfectly emerald orbs._

_Loki screams again, his throat hoarse and raw. The acidic venom peels away his eyelids, and the soft membrane of his eyes spills open once more. _

_Thor comes into view at the entrance of the cave. He strides over to Loki's side, his armor clanking as his feet pound the ground. He stops beside Loki's prone form, his glare burning into Loki's flesh. He reaches out, his eyes soften, and for a moment, Loki thinks Thor is going to free him, but his glare hardens and he forcefully twisting his head to see the Thunderer fully, and Loki shouts for Thor to help him. "Please, my love!" He begs, his voice coarse and unrefined, "I didn't do anything! Please, Thor, you mustn't do this!" _

_The venom drips onto the side of Loki's face before the woman has a chance to catch the drops, and the acid eats through the meat of Loki's cheek, burning into his gums and rotting away his teeth and tongue. _

_He wants to scream, but Thor's hands on his face feel like heaven, so he holds it in, trying to turn his face into the cradle of Thor's massive palm for comfort. "Please," he begs again, eyes filling with tears._

_Thor's lips are thin, and he looks ragged. "You deserve this, Loki." He says, and despite Loki's screams, he doesn't come back._

_The red faced man cackles darkly._

* * *

Loki wakes up crying, holding his face in his hands as he sobs openly. His chest burns and aches something awful and he has to breath in deep several times to get the oxygen he needs to stay calm.

He gets up slowly and walks to a mirror, examines his eyes in the blurry reflection. They're still there, bright and green, but every time Loki blinks, all he can see in the serpent above him, grinning down at him with its fangs exposed, poised and ready.

His throat feels sore, and his eyes burn fiercely, but at least they aren't melting out of his face.

* * *

It is a year or so later when Tyr the one handed, the youngest of Odin's children, comes to visit Loki. He barges into Loki's home, unwarranted and red faced, his eyes wide and unseeing; anxious and pained.

"Tyr?" Loki shouts, startled, but the boy only wraps his arms around Loki's middle and falls to his knees in despair. Loki, still in shock by the break in of his little brother, stammers over his words. "W-what, Tyr?"

Tyr buries his face into Loki's abdomen, sobs and chokes, big, fat tears rolling down his scarred face. "Why?" He croaks, and Loki crumbles, "why did you leave?"

Loki sighs and simply coos the younger man soothingly, stroking his hair and offering up soft, sweet nothings to calm the boy down. He makes Tyr stand and goes to close the door behind the giant boy, but Tyr stays close on his heels, as if Loki will dart and disappear in an instant.

He chuckles softly, places a hand on Tyr's chest. "Calm, little brother. Take a seat, I'll get you some tea."

Tyr struggles with himself for a moment, fighting whether or not he should leave Loki's side. Loki shakes his head and motions for Tyr to follow him to the table. Tyr shambles behind him, his head bowed. "Loki," he starts, but the ebony haired man just shushes him softly.

He makes the younger man sit at the table as he puts around his kitchen, fetching the kettle to boil some water. He sighs, feeling Tyr's eyes on his back. "Loki, please, listen." Tyr begs, his voice breaking.

Tyr begs for Loki to come back home, "please," he says, and so rarely does he use his manners, regardless of the fact that Frigga worked so hard to instill them into him. Tyr is so like Thor; brass and unyielding, but loving to a fault. He is heartbroken without his brother and with Loki gone too…

"Loki, you belong in Asgard. Midgard is…" he looks around the shabby little home and frowns, "Midgard does not fit you as Asgard had, my brother."

Loki fondly reminds Tyr time and again that they are not true brothers, but Tyr will hear none of it. "You married my brother; you are my brother now. Please, Loki," he curls his hands around Loki's and the green-eyed man smiles fondly. "You have to come home." Tyr begs.

Loki tsks the boy, makes him smile softly and takes the boy's hand fully within his grasp. There is silence for a long while between them as they sit at Loki's small table, and when the kettle begins to scream, Loki brings Tyr a cup of tea to settle the younger man's nerves.

Though Loki is tall and slender, Tyr towers over him and dwarves the small table in Loki's small house. But the ebony haired man doesn't mind, in fact he rather enjoys the battle hardened youth's company.

"Loki, please—" Tyr starts, but Loki turns his head away and waves Tyr's pleads away.

"Enough, dear Tyr." Loki breathes softly, and he looks at his feet, sipping daintily at a cup of warm tea. He is exhausted, and Tyr's persistence is wearing him thin.

"Thor isn't back from war yet," Tyr sounds hopefully, but Loki merely flinches and feels his chest constrict around his ribcage. It's past the Winter Solstice, far past it, in fact. "There's still time for you to come home—to set things right with mother and prepare for Thor's arrival!"

But Loki simply smiles softly at the youngest of his brothers as he sets his teacup down on the small table. Tyr notices the half-broken smile tugging at Loki's lips, and he thinks that perhaps Thor would have never noticed such a small, troubling thing, even if Loki had been his mate for several, hundred years.

Loki touches his brother's cheek lovingly, "All is well, darling." He coos.

Tyr sighs at the gentle touch, the slightest amount of affection he feels he will ever receive from Loki again. He leans his head into the cradle of Loki's palm and closes his eyes as he takes Loki's wrist in his hand, and kisses the veins beneath his skin, blessing the life-blood that flows within Loki.

"He's going to miss you so much." Tyr whispers, forlornly, his eyes downcast and fearful.

Loki's smile breaks as he chokes back the tears threatening to slips from the corner of his eye. He clears his throat. "I know." He says, and he has to look away from Tyr. He has Thor's beautiful, blue eyes, and it pains Loki to see them.

Tyr slips out in the dead of night, far past the time Loki had fallen asleep.

* * *

It get's harder and harder for Loki to wake up without Thor's arms around him after the nightmares that plague his sleep.

Five years pass in the blink of an eye, and then it's all over.

* * *

Loki anticipates the day war ends on Muspelheim, and after five long, tedious years, it finally arrives on a soft summer night.

Word reaches him by Himedall, whom courteously sends a Palace Guard in the dark of night to alert the run-away Prince that Thor had indeed returned home—alive and well.

But it is only moments later, after Loki sends the guard away, that Thor comes thundering down into Loki's sunflower field, trampling the tall flowers in a beeline for the front door. But Loki meets him there, a meek expression painted like a sunset across the paler man's face. He doesn't smile, and he doesn't frown, but his ribcage threatens to rip him apart from the inside out.

Thor is on him in seconds, pinning him forcefully to the outer wall of Loki's home. "Thor!" Loki shouts in surprise, trying to wriggle free and struggle against the painfully thick fingers digging into both of his shoulders.

"You left?!" Thor thunders back, and dark clouds gather above in the dark sky, threatening to assault the Earth and Loki's remaining sunflowers.

"I had to!" The ebony haired Prince screeches, his nails digging gullies into Thor's armored arms. "I refuse to stay in Asgard, for fear that I may destroy it!" His eyes burn and Thor's breath is hot against his face.

"What madness have you been ill with, Loki?!" Thor shakes him angrily, bewildered at Loki's actions. He continues to raise his voice over Loki's, and the wind picks up murderously. It bellows Thor's tattered, worn cape wayward and Loki can see the blood stains marring the thick clothe. His eyes sweep across Thor's body worriedly, and he notices, for the first time, the scars and scabs and angry wounds festering over Thor's body, and Loki panics.

He pulls himself free of Thor, despite the blondes warning growls, and grabs Thor's face, turning his head side to side. He notices small nicks and scabs; red, irritated skin around rusted armor and Loki sighs freely.

He touches Thor's face tenderly and Thor's expression softens minutely. "No madness, dear Thor," Loki mutters softly. "You're hurt," he tries to change the subject. Thor will have none of it.

"Why did you leave?" Thor growls, and he bats Loki's hand away from his face.

Loki feels a burning sensation gathering behind his eyes once more, but he looks away from his husband and mutters; "I am no child of Asgard, dear Thor."

Thor opens his mouth to retort, but Loki presses his palms to Thor's chest and pushes softly, bleeding the magic free of his disguise. The blonde man is taken aback by the frost that clings around the paler man's skin, creating a blue-tinge to the surface of Loki's flesh. The frost bites at Thor's chest, seeping in through his armour, stealing his breath away in an instant.

His hands fall away from Loki's form as thick, dark lines carve themselves across his face and neck, and up his forearms and biceps. The emerald of Loki's eyes give way to a bloody red, spreading from the center of his pupil, extending out, blossoming red across his whole eye.

Loki looks to the ground once more, shameful as he pulls his palms away from Thor's chest and cradles his ribcage. He feels a hole tearing its way through him, a void burning its way from the center of his being, consuming him slowly till he bursts, and he wishes, for once, the void would swallow him whole.

"What—what sorcery is this?" Thor demands, stammering over his words. His voice is deep and raw, and the tenor of it sends a shiver down Loki's spine.

But Loki can't lie, not to Thor. "There is no sorcery, Thor. This is me." His blood red eyes bat ebony lashes up at the Heir to the Asgardian throne, "I came upon the secret by accident." He mutters softly as Thor's hands explore his exposed forearms, running rough fingertips along raised, blue lines, following them up his bicep and across his neck. He touches Loki's face tentatively, hesitantly, his brows furrowed deep.

"Thor." Loki called, and his eyes burned again, "Thor, look at me."

And Thor does.

"I am a Jotun, Thor. I am Laufey's son." The statement comes out harsher than Loki would have wished, but it was still something that needed to be said.

"H-how?" Thor asks, more to himself than Loki, and Loki flinches away from Thor's hot touch as the man grips his forearm.

"The relics." Loki answers softly. "I went into the Vault and touched the Casket. My skin—" he touched Thor's hand with his fingertips and Thor's hand seized under the cold temperature, "—turned blue, like the Jotun's. All this—" He motioned to his body, "—all this is a guise Odin built for me. I am a Jotun, but only a runt. Yet," he sighs, his lungs burning, "I am Laufey's child."

Loki sighed when Thor says nothing, only stares at him with wide, unseeing eyes. "Did you know Odin took me, as a child, from Jotunheim?" He asks, and Thor slowly shakes his head, uncertain.

"I had always seen you in the Palace when we were children, Loki. We grew up together. We fell in love. You were never a brother to me, never," Thor shakes his head, cupping Loki's face in both his hands. "You were so much more than that."

Loki chuckles lightly, remembering the first time they met, and how Loki had despised Thor's brash behavior and kicked him in the shins and rubbed his face in the dirt, and even though Odin and Frigga had raised him within their home, they had never called him _'son.'_

"I went to Jotunheim once I found out, in search of Laufey, hoping to get some answers, but he took one look at me and called me _son._" Loki chocked back a panicked sob. "You should have seen his face, love. He was so shocked."

"We—we can work past this. Is this why you left Asgard?" Thor questions, his brow furrowed in confusion, "Father would not say why you left, just that you did so while we were in battle, and he would not tell me during the war for fear that I would leave to find you." He shakes his head, his bottom lip quivering slightly, "why would you—why would you leave me?" Thor's cerulean eyes begged for an explanation, and Loki only had one. "Did you think I would not love you after this, after you told me? Did you think I would not come back for you?"

Loki touched Thor's cheek, and from his fingertips on up his arms, Loki's skin becomes ivory colored, and his eyes reverted back to the beautiful emerald green that Thor loved so much. "No, love, that's not why I left."

"Then tell me, Loki." The Heir begged, bringing the smaller man into his arms. Loki recoiled at the action, forcing his mate away, and refusing to meet the hurt eyes of the man he had grown to love so much.

"I—I can't, Thor. If what we had iever/i meant anything to you, you'll leave me." And Loki stepped back into his shabby little home, and closed the door, leaving the God of Thunder alone in the pouring rain.

* * *

That night, the thunder had never been louder, and Loki had never cried harder.

* * *

The dreams continue for a time, then disappear all together, until one night, when Loki is very old, it causes his heart to almost stops beating. He has to drag himself outside to breathe, to take in the oxygen he needs so desperately, before he's able to go back into his house to sleep.

He wonders, briefly, if Thor would be happier to have Loki dead. But he is bitter, and he is old, and Thor is young and beautiful and far, far away from him now.

* * *

Idunn walks amongst mortals like she walks amongst the Golden Apple trees in Asgard; graceful and alone. She dances in Loki's sunflower patch and laughs as the petals tickle her face, shying away from the tall flowers with a childlike giggle. The sunshine creates a halo against her golden hair, crowning her head. The sun smiles at her, beating down on her sun-kissed skin. She pads gracefully towards the house, and smiles at the elderly man staring back at her.

Loki's face is soft and pale, wrinkled with age. Being off of Asgard has caused him to age as any Midgardian would, but Loki has accepted it regardless. He spots the Goddess with his old eyes, grey and partially blind, and he grins and nods in acknowledgement, ushering the woman closer.

"You've aged, dear Loki." She muses, a Golden Apple in hand. She tosses the Apple between her palms, measuring its weight as she tilts her head at the crowned Prince. Her blonde hair seems to conform to her figure, and Loki doesn't deny his eyes the love he still holds for the woman's beauty.

"Well, I've been on Midgard for so many years without your eternal fruit, I would expect no less than age, Idunn." Loki retorts, trying to hold back his smile and failing.

Idunn shakes her head, bemused. "Oh, Loki. You'll never change." She tosses the Apple in her hand towards him. It hits the ground and rolls to his feet—not a bruise or scratch on it. "I take care of my own, Prince. I'll bring you more to return you to your former glory, and I'll be back every month with a few more to keep you youthful." She smirks, a sardonic tone to her voice as she whispers; "age does not suit you well, crowned Prince."

Loki picks the Apple up slowly, inspecting it with faded green orbs as tears build up once more. He takes a bite, and remembers the sweetest taste he'd ever tasted were within those Apples. But when he looks up again, Idunn is gone, but another Golden Apple lays discarded where she stood.


	3. World Destroyer

**Do You Feel Me [3]  
**

* * *

Loki is able to experience many things while living on Earth—Midgard, what have you.

His marriage to one quiet woman in particular brings about his own sense of peppered mortality, in fact. She reminds him of Thor in appearances—that's probably why he loves her so much. She has stunning blue eyes and sun kissed blonde hair that she always seems to be frustrated with.

He watches her sit at her armour one morning, fussing with the strands, her fingers knuckle deep in the tangles. Her back is straight, her frame slender and shoulders tense. Her forehead is wrinkled in frustration.

"Sigyn," he chuckles lowly, shaking his head in amusement.

She grimaces, shoulders slumping in defeat. "Good morning, darling." She mutters softly.

Loki places a chaste kiss on the side of her face, reaches up to brush a strand of hair away from her eyes. She smiles at him, but it doesn't reach her eyes. He begins helping her pull her hair back into a loose braid, grabbing up a silver brush her mother gave her as a wedding present, weaving the teeth into the strands of her golden hair. She blushes, looks down at her lap and folds her hands. "Thank you, Loki." She mutters again, rolling her eyes.

Loki chuckles again but doesn't reply. She giggles when his fingers brush a sensitive area on her neck, moving away from his hands. She bats his hands away playfully, taking the braid and twisting and pinning it up against her scalp in a simple, quick bun.

"Go to work, Loki," she grins, waving him away and stealing back her silver brush, "my mother will be here soon, she and I have much to do today."

Loki shrugs, taking a seat beside her on her tiny bench. She regards him skeptically, raising a brow when he does not rise and instead leans, leisurely, against her counter, pushing aside a perfume bottle that hurts his sinuses far too much, and is ironically, far too full. Sigyn must know he doesn't like the scent as much as the others.

"I think I can manage a day off, for you and your mother." He musses, and she giggles, covering her smile with her hand.

"Oh, all right." She says softer, giving him a lovely sidelong glance as she smiles and purses her lips in the mirror, "I'll make your favorite for breakfast then."

Loki watches her stand and go, watches the way the braided bun falls from it's original place on her scalp and hangs low at her shoulders. He hears her sigh in frustration as she rounds the corner, but all he sees is a old image of Thor, standing at their window, golden hair shimmering in the sunlight, and it's burned into his memory forever.

* * *

Fifty years pass, and while Sigyn ages and becomes decrepit and blind, Loki stays youthful and beautiful and forever young. She never complains about her aging and him not, in fact she never even asks how such a thing could be possible, and Loki couldn't love her anymore than he already did—she was Loki's little wife, Sigyn, at least for now.

"Love, would you like an Apple?" Loki asks one day as Idunn approaches from within his field of sunflowers with a smile plastered across her face.

Idunn has come and gone throughout their lives, and the little old woman has grown accustom to seeing such a beautiful Goddess in her husband's company. She knew what those Apples did, had figured it out easily enough, but to partake in their flavor? No, she would not.

"Goodness no, darling." She commends with a coy smile. She places a wrinkled, withered hand on Loki's young face, her thumb stroking across his cheek, just below his eye. "Be brave, my Loki." Sigyn whispers, looking deep into her husband's eyes.

Loki gives her an odd look but said no more as Idunn approaches their lonely house. He places a kiss on the elderly woman's wrinkled forehead and smiles as she drops her hand from his face. "Be brave, my love." She whispers again, and Loki shakes his head mournfully.

"Hush, love." He strokes her wrinkled cheek with the back of his hand and sighs.

* * *

Loki reflects on his life with Sigyn often, how they had met at a dance the first time he'd traveled to the city. Her hair in a short, chopped fashion that was so like the times, how their eyes had met but only briefly, before she turned and slinked away, dancing among friends.

They had met again in a speak-easy, and how he had saved her and her friends from a raid. He remembers the way she had cried when her father and brother never returned from the Second World War, and how he held her till she couldn't cry anymore.

He remembers the way she told him; "I love you," and how he had heard Thor's voice as she spoke those words.

He reminisces on the tiny details of their lives, rather than the bigger picture. The way she smiles and holds her own, her quite sense of reality and what it is, and how she always tells Loki the things he needs to hear over the things he wants to hear.

He suddenly regrets never giving the old woman any children. He wonders if they would have looked anything like the child he painted in his head of his and Thor's offspring. But that was unfair to do to such a sweet woman, to imagine the children he would have had with her and be thinking of Thor—be thinking of another life entirely.

But, Loki sighs as Idunn takes his hand in hers and leads him into the sunflower field, bringing him back to the present moment. Sigyn probably already knew he could never love her as much as he had loved Thor.

"He is well, so you know." Idunn speaks softly, staring at Loki intently.

Loki, about to ask the Goddess how she knew he'd been thinking of Thor, cranes his neck to the sky. "You get a distant look in your eyes when you think of Thor, crowned Prince. It is not hard to see that you miss him" she says, then adds quietly; "and home."

"I will always miss home, Idunn." Loki mutters, longingly. He continues to look up towards the sky as Idunn places an Apple in his hands.

"Expect tragedy tonight, Prince." Idunn's face is suddenly stern as she searches the ebony haired mans eyes.

"I know." He says back, softly.

"I can send him to you, if you'd like..."

"That will not be necessary." Loki turns from the woman, but stops before turning back towards her hesitantly. "Thank you, Idunn. For coming here."

Idunn's red lips curl up into a soft smile. She places a hand on Loki's cheek, cupping his face gently in the cradle of her palm. "Take care of yourself, dear. Until next time."

Loki heads back to his little house, to his little, elderly wife, to his forsaken prison of loneliness.

* * *

Night falls soon enough. Sigyn requests Loki hold her till she falls asleep that night, and he does. He cradles her close to his chest like he did when she was younger, taking in the scent of her thin, white hair and old, dry skin. She whispers her love to him, kissing his eyes as they close.

She passes later on that night, and Loki almost thinks he sees a Valkyrie taking her soul to the gates of Valhalla—but he knows, Sigyn is no warrior.

Loki buries Sigyn in the sunflower patch. Thunder rolls, angry and foreboding.

* * *

"Why does he not want me there, witch?!" Thor bellows as Idunn tells him of Loki's wife passing in the night.

"He deems so unnecessary, therefore, I have told the All-Father. You are forbidden to enter the realm of Midgard." Idunn bellows back fiercely, pointing a finger at the Prince. "And do not speak to me like that again, Thunderer." She warns, golden eyes narrowing dangerously.

"The All-Father be damned!" Thor swings his hammer in a circular motion before taking off towards the Rainbow Bridge. But Himedall blocks his path with his giant sword, glaring vehemently at the Thunderer.

"Himedall, I command you let me pass to Midgard or I—"

"I am under strict orders to deny you access." Himedall finishes before Thor could continue his threat. The Gatekeeper places a hand on the Prince's shoulder, his hardened eyes softening ever so slightly. "… But you may want to talk to Loki before it is to late."

Thor catches the Gatekeepers meaning and he smiles deviously, "so what do you recommend I do?"

Himedall does not reply, simply leans his tall, golden sword against the Bifrost controller, and walks away from the Bifrost, to Thor's utter astonishment. "I'm suddenly feeling rather famished, crowned Prince, and it seems my post has been abandoned for a few mere seconds and it just so happens that, while I'm away, you have slipped passed my watch."

Thor grins as Himedall winks and turns away. "My father will know what you've done." He calls, his smile fading. Odin will know as soon as Thor leaves Asgard. Odin will know as soon as Thor makes up his mind to leave.

Himedall nods, seriously, "then I hope you can convince Loki to come home soon, so Lord Odin will not be so crossed." He turns again, marching onward.

Thor takes hold of the mighty sword, points it towards Midgard, and holds his breath as he is sucked up into the Bifrost, and feigns the feeling of sunflower petals against his cheeks as he came crashing down into a familiar garden.

* * *

Loki storms towards the flower patch as the blonde cranes his neck stupidly up over the tall flowers. The oaf smiles lightly, eagerly making his way towards the ebony haired man.

"Loki, my lo—"

"What are you doing here?!" Loki screeches, shoving the Thunderer away before he had a chance to pull Loki into his chest with his big, muscled arms.

Thor frowns, resists the shove, grabbing Loki's thin wrist and wrapping his arm around the ebony haired man's back. Loki beats his fist rapidly against the Prince's armor, shouting words that are foreign to Thor's ears. "Loki," he coos softly, stroking the pale mans dark hair as he stills. "Idunn told me of your loss, of the woman you kept. Loki—I—I am sorry. But if you come to Asgard—"

Loki stifles a sob, chortling beside himself. "I cannot go back to Asgard. I have no home." His voice breaks at his words, and he shoves Thor away, and oh wretched wickedness, Thor's heart crumbles before Loki's vicious attacks. "You shouldn't have come here."

Thor is sure the man he loves is speaking out of anger and loss, but he can't stop himself from asking; "what was it that made you leave so long ago, my dearest Loki?"

Loki freezes, the realization of Thor's question berating his hardened heart. Had he never answered when Thor asked? Had he ever talked about it aloud, for even the birds to hear? The spiders speak of a dream; of life ending death, of fatalities numbering the stars, but not of Loki's dream—the dream that spoke of the end of things, the end of it all, the death of the Gods. But Loki was sure, even the insects knew of his fate. Baldr did, and Himedall too.

"I had a dream." Loki says, turning away and striding towards his small home. "It was a terrible dream, and that is all." He spoke matter-of-factly, as if that were the end of the conversation.

"What of it?" Thor asks curiously, and Loki loves his voice—the melancholic brutality the stupid oaf had was enough to set his skin on edge, but in good ways; in goose fleshed, crawling, tingling, lustful ways.

Loki holds out his hand to the man, and when Thor takes it, Loki leads him back towards his house. This will be the first time Thor will step foot in the others home, and for a moment, he wonders if such a small building could hold all that Loki really loves—massive amounts of books, collected and stored and pieced together like treasures found in the deepest of oceans. In another life, Thor could see Loki as a fearsome Dragon, hoarding his gold in a cave far away from humanity.

He looks towards the smaller man, towards all he loves and desires, and waits for him to speak. Thor dreamt of the day Loki would come back to Asgard, would sleep beside him and sigh in his sleep when Thor curls his arms around Loki.

"I dreamed I crippled Jotunheim, and shattered the Bifrost." Thor cringes at the thought. Loki could never be so brutal. "I terrorized Earth and brought terrible creatures here to conquer and slaughter and enslave the human race. I plotted and killed our dearest Baldr in my dreams, beginning the fearsome foretold Ragnarok." Loki looks towards their hands, intertwined and wondered, briefly, if Thor could really survive the End of All Things like he had in his dreams.

He chooses his words carefully, mulling them around in his mind before letting them flow forth. "It killed everyone, except you, my love." Loki swallows, refuses to tell Thor that he is the one that kills Thor, and Thor listens and watches as his throat hollows, "I dreamt of Odin and Frigga's death, of her magic being stolen from her. Fenrir dies in front of me every time, and a red skinned man drives a blade through my ribs as you pass in my arms." Loki covers his mouth, tries not to gag on his words. "In another dream, I am bound to a stone by my inners, and a vicious snake perched above my head drips poison into my eyes." Thor flinches, because of course he knows this snake, had seen its' work done to traitors of the Kingdom.

Loki grimaces, looks away and closes his eyes against the pressure building behind his lids. "A woman I do not know sits by my side, shielding my eyes from the venom, but she is hidden in shadow. I wonder if it's Sigyn." He pauses, glancing sideways up at Thor. He slows his pace, taking his hand from the Thunderes' grip. He stares pointedly at Thor and says; "you are the one to bind me there, husband. You and your father."

"Lies!" Thor shouts, and thunder cracks behind him. Loki steps away cautiously, wide eyed. Thor had never once raised his voice so loudly towards Loki, even when they fought.

Thor realizes his mistake and reaches out for his lost lover, but Loki bats his hand away, his eyes radiating a darkness that will never fully vanish.

"Loki, please, 'twas but a dream. Come home to me." Thor begs.

Loki shakes his head, walking ahead. "You should leave now, Thor. Go." He waves behind him, and the sky grows dark and heavy.

"Loki—"

"Come now, Thor. I don't have time to play your games." Loki snarls, baring his teeth like a rabid animal. His eyes burn and sting, filling with unshed tears that threaten to fall any second.

Thor isn't fazed. "What if I've lost everything," Thor begins, touching Loki's face tenderly. Loki turned away, shying from Thor's hand, "what if you never come back, Loki, what if—" His words fall short, his fingertips pressing into the side of Loki's side, digging gullies pirate would be jealous of.

Loki's eyes burn emerald, angry and hurt. "Tell me, Odinson," Loki spits vengefully, twisting out of Thor's brutal, panicked grip. Thor winces, because that was Loki's name, too, _once_. "Why are you here?"

"For you, Loki." Thor says, dumbfounded, breathless. "I came here for you, by the Gods, I pray you cannot be this stubborn!" Thor shouts, but Loki will have none of it.

"What Gods do Gods even pray to then, hm?" Loki seethes, and he shoves Thor away from him. "Leave, _Odinson._" He growls and finally turns from Thor.

Loki's eyes burn a bright, angry shade of emerald, and Thor feels his knees quake with the strength of their hatred. But Thor breathes deeply for a moment, composes himself, and speaks; "No, love. I cannot. I pray to you, you pray to I, and that is all that need be said." He straightens his shoulders, and in a blink of an eye, he reaches for Loki once more—

But his hand passes through Loki's form, like smoke on water.

Thor's composure crumbles at that moment. His knees weaken and his body feels heavy, solid an imaginary all at once. He stares blankly at the illusion in front of him, flickering in and out of focus. Loki's mouth moves, whispering words that Thor cannot comprehend.

He leaves without another thought, his mind blank aside from the immense emptiness now occupying his stomach, beating against his ribcage in waves of sorrow.

Loki watches the man go, watches the Bifrost open up and swallows him whole.

A storm brews to the North. Loki sits outside as it whips around his house.

* * *

Thor does not come back to Earth again. Years pass, and the world evolves, and Loki must evolve with it. Word reached him sometime later of Fenrir.

He escapes the forest, breaks the chains that bind him, and Loki smiles knowingly.

* * *

The house, old and ancient, burns to the ground and billows away in waves of ashes in the wind. Loki watches the house burn, curled up in a blanket draped over his shoulders by some handsome Firemen.

"The house was ancient." He hears one whisper behind his hand, giving Loki a scrutinizing look, "it's a surprise it didn't burn down _ages_ ago."

"I wonder how long he's been out here, I mean,_ Jesus_, look at this place…" The other man shivers, "it's old as balls."

Loki ignores the men, watches the walls of his house fall in on themselves, the roof give way and concave, the puffs of smoke rise higher and higher and disappear into the dark sky. He waits, watches numbly his sunflowers catch fire from burning embers that fall to the ground, watches them burn up into the atmosphere and tumble onto Sigyn's grave and scorches the ground.

A Policeman with a hesitant smile kindly escorts Loki into the back of his car, shuts him in and gives him a moment to himself. He drives Loki away from the ruins of his home, takes him to a hotel in the city and honks at traffic as it clogs and congests the streets. The city is loud and angry and bright and god, when did the world change so much without his notice?

The officer pulls his vehicle to the side, stops the car and hops out. He helps Loki to the concierge counter and hands him a key card and pats him on the shoulder as if they were the best of friends. Loki wants to shy away from the man, but stills and watches him speak, unsure if he's really even talking to Loki. "We got you a room for a month in Manhattan, sir. You can get yourself together there, find yourself a job, get a new place, you know." He smiles sweetly and shrugs. He pats Loki on the shoulder once more, offers a hesitant smile and walks away.

Loki stands there for a moment, looking at everything. Where was his house? Where was Sigyn? Where was Thor?

"Sir? Sir?" The woman at the desk waves her hand in his face, pulls a sweet smile and points him towards the elevator. "The card gets swiped in front of the scanner, your room is on the sixth floor, room 605, okay?" She smiles again and folds her hands in front of her, on top of a stack of papers. "Have a nice night!"

There is soot on his face and feet. His shirt is scorched in places and has holes now. The lobby is mostly dark.

"Where am I?" He asks, his voice broken.

The woman frowns deeply, says slowly; "you're in the Days Inn, in Manhattan, Sir." Her smile softens, "the Police Officer says your house burned down, out in the boonies. You okay, sir?" She has an accent, southern or European, Loki isn't sure anymore.

Loki frowns again, looks at his hands. There is soot under his fingernails. Huh.

"I need to get a job." He mutters, and the woman laughs.

"You should see if Stark Industries is hiring. They're always looking for pretty faces." She grins brightly. It's blinding. "Though, you might want to shower before you go there." She grimaces. Her name is Tiffany Lynn. "And get a new outfit," she adds, hesitantly.

"Stark Industries?" Loki asks, frowns, and the woman tilts her head in disbelief, but when she realizes Loki isn't joking, she scoffs and points out the window at a tall building, lighting the sky. It's miles away but Loki can see it, can see the giant _Stark_ insignia on the side of the building, adding more blue light to the already bright night sky.

"Stark Industries," she says, smiling, "the worlds leading weapons industry."

Loki knows weapons. Loki knows a lot about weapons.


End file.
